Indigenous Law: Issues, Individuals, Institutions And
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Fourword: Issues, Individuals, Institutions and Ideas JOHN BORROWS∗ There is a story about a young man who had a dream. In this dream he saw people scrambling up and down the rugged faces of four hills. When he looked closer he noticed each hill seemed to have different groups of people trying to scale its heights.1 He was perplexed. The first hill, to the east, was covered with very small people. Many were weeping and crying; some were covered in blood or lay lifeless at the base. The foot of the hill where they were piled was shrouded in darkness. The shadows and twisted heap made it hard to see how many were gathered there in death, or life. A bit higher, other tiny bodies could be seen crawling over rocks and spring scrub, determinedly edging their way higher over rough terrain. Knees were scraped, hands were red, but their upward progress was noticeable. At other points it was possible to see some totter forward on wobbly legs, through halting steps and tender help from a few around them. Small bits of tobacco would change hands in thanks. Some were laughing and playing, joyfully climbing to their destination. They seemed to be enjoying the challenge that stood before them. They learned from their mistakes, and carefully watched those around them to see how to go on. Yet, every so often one would trip, or lose their hold on the hill, and tumble and scrape to the bottom. A few had reached the top, and stood in the bright yellow glow of the morning sun. Surveying the horizon they could see three other hills spread before them. Looking curious about what lay ahead they descended the slope, onward to the hill in the south. The people on the second hill were a lot more boisterous. They were wrestling, talking excitedly, playing ball, tag and a hundred other games. The man thought he recognized a few faces from the first hill, but they seemed somehow different now. Once again a great throng was gathered at the bottom. There was such a number that people kept getting pushed down and trampled in the race to climb the hill. Their close confines under the hot, ∗ John Borrows, of the Chippewas of the Nawash, Anishinabek Nation. Professor and Law Foundation Chair of Aboriginal Justice and Governance, Faculty of Law, University of Victoria. 1. This work combines many teachings I have received over the years. I first heard some of these ideas as a young boy at Neyashiinigmiing and in Barrie. Later, I learned more from Elder Lillian McGregor from Birch Island. The story about the four hills is found in Basil Johnston, Ojibway Heritage (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1976) at 109-119. My version draws strongly from this account and from Elder McGregor’s oral teachings, received between 1994 and 1996 when I was working as a professor at Osgoode Hall Law School at York University in Toronto. Indigenous Law Journal/Volume 1/Spring 2002 vii viii Indigenous Law Journal Vol. 1 humid sun made it look unbearable. The numbers thinned as the hill rose. Scanning the hill the man observed a group chasing a young deer. The arrows they slung widely missed their mark. Attempts to stalk and surprise the deer were hindered by taunts and teasing as they chased through the cedars. Many seemed to have lost interest in what lay at the hilltop. Others tired of the chase, and headed out on their own. They could be seen quietly snaring rabbits or pausing at certain fishing holes as they made their way forward. They contended with deep canyons, sparse rivers and a jagged crimson-red landscape as they moved on. The few who made the summit could once again be seen gazing at what lie ahead. They too made their way down and forward to the hill to the west. On the third hill a good-sized crowd surrounded the base. Though fewer in numbers than at the foot of the first and second hill, they nevertheless managed to cover much of the available space. Every once in a while the man observed that some would break free of the group and start their climb upward. People could be seen walking together, supporting and helping each other over the black expanse of the endless, sage covered hill. Others struck out alone, pressed onward, and built strength as they overcame the obstacles strewn on their path. At higher elevations the man could sometimes hear violent fights, and see alternating displays of anger and neglect, charm and cunning, kindness and mean tricks. These outbursts could become so cacophonous they would wrack an entire section of the rise. Their strong words seemed perfectly blended with the vivid colours of the autumn flora. He saw that conflict caused some to eventually turn away from their partners. Others discovered companionship for the first time, or took up with another partner, and made their journey onwards with renewed determination. Some pushed forward knocking down others as they went, while still others would gently take the hand of a fallen comrade as they scrambled up the rough face of the hill. In thinning numbers, a few would eventually find themselves at the peak. Reflectively, they could be seen looking backward, and then turn their face forward to the last hill in the distance. The fourth hill to the north was very quiet, even at its base. Peaceful. There were much fewer people here than at the foot of the other hills. Thick with snow, its stark white facade made it seem even calmer in its stillness. Its figures walked silently, slowly struggling against the deep gravity of the incline. The man saw that some collapsed without any apparent reason. Others fell, got up, fell again, and got up, repeating this action as they fought their way forward. Couples would watch helplessly as partners crumpled beside them, finally unable to move a foot further. At these periods there would be long pauses as the stronger one knelt by the weaker, said tearful goodbyes, before ultimately standing again and bowing even more deeply at Spring 2002 Fourword ix the gradient before them. Near the pinnacle of the northern hill, its upper reaches were dappled with clear sunlight. Strains of gentle laughter and quiet whispers filled the air. Sweetgrass smoke curled and blended with the breeze. The people standing at the crown of this last hill wore the lines and furrows of the terrain they crossed. The white of the stone ashen sky seemed to adorn their heads, as if purified through their experiences. Then the dream faded. Upon waking, the man wondered what it all meant. Looking up at the ceiling he thought of the images he had seen. He pondered their significance. Try as he might, he couldn’t figure it all out. Then he thought of his Nokomis and Mishomis. They could probably help. In one swift motion he swung his legs out of bed, rested his feet on the rough wood-hewn floor. Pausing for a moment, his breath gathered in small clouds around him. The air seemed still, and he noticed a touch of frost on the windows. If I hurry I can help them with their fire, he thought, then I can ask them about my dream. Scurrying around the cabin he quickly dressed and made his way out the door, along the diamond-snow graveled path. When he arrived, his Nokomis and Mishomis were just stirring. He gathered a few small logs from their woodpile, split them, and let himself in. Crouching at the woodstove, he could see his Nokomis and Mishomis talking in the other room. As the fire crackled and grew in the stove his grandparents joined him. “Ahnee! Did you sleep well? Kemauh?” “Eha. Ahneesh ae-izhi-bimaudiziyin.” “Onishishin, but I had a dream I don’t understand. Ninihsitohtahsiin.” “Do you want to share your dream - enahbundumowin?” “Eha. It seemed so real, but I can’t really get the whole sense of it.” He followed his Nokomis and Mishomis to their table. Chrome and Arborite reflected the new day’s sun streaming from the far window. Mishomis paused at the sink and stove to prepare a pot of tea over which they would visit. When they were all settled, the young man fiddled with the saltshaker for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. Giving him the time he needed, his Nokomis and Mishomis sat quietly, enjoying the warmth of the fire and sun starting to fill the room. Slowly, methodically, the young man then started explaining what he saw in his dream from the night before. When he was finished, the old man and woman were still. Finally, Nokomis asked, “What do you think it means?” The young man tried to order his thoughts. “I don’t know, part of it seems so obvious, but I think there must be more.” After a moment’s silence, Mishomis asked, “What do you mean?” “Well, I know that many of our teachings are wrapped up in what I saw, but I can’t imagine what they have to do with what’s going on in my life. x Indigenous Law Journal Vol. 1 I’m so busy at work and home; I thought that coming up here would clear my head. Instead, I now feel even more confused.” His grandmother looked into her tea and asked, “Tell me, what are you thinking?” “Well, I always love coming home because there are so many good memories here. It feels like a place where I can get perspective on the world.